Enemies to Lovers

Chapter 1

The air in the terminal was thick with the scent of stale coffee and recycled anxiety. For the last hour, Ava Monroe had been trapped in the purgatory of the security line, wedged between her brother’s aggressively cheerful optimism and Jax Ryder’s suffocating presence.

Ryan, ever the golden boy, was scrolling through his phone, oblivious. But Jax… Jax was a storm cloud in human form. A six-foot-four, walking-and-breathing assault on her nervous system, and he’d been her brother’s best friend for a decade of her own personal hell.

Another girl checked him out. Her gaze lingered on the sharp line of his jaw, the dark, unruly hair that fell over his brow, the way his black hoodie stretched across shoulders built for violence. Jax didn’t even notice. Or he pretended not to. He was leaning against the stanchion, all lazy arrogance and coiled energy, like a predator bored with the zoo.

“I swear,” Ava muttered, her voice a low hiss meant only for Ryan, “if one more girl looks at him like he’s some kind of dark-and-tortured fantasy, I’m going to use my carry-on as a barf bag.”

Ryan didn’t look up. “She won’t be the last.”

From beside her, Jax’s lips twitched into a smirk. He’d heard. Of course, he’d heard. His hearing was as sharp as his attitude. “Can’t blame ‘em,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated through the air and straight into Ava’s bones. “I’m kind of a big deal.”

Ava turned to him, her expression deadpan. “Yes. The kind of big deal who probably thinks a restraining order is just a girl playing hard to get.”

It was an old game, their war of words. A decade-long ritual of weaponized memories and surgical strikes. It was the only way they knew how to talk.

He arched a brow, his green eyes—the color of a storm-tossed sea—locking onto hers. “At least I didn’t cry at my junior prom because some guy called my dress ‘aggressively pink.’”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “It was vintage rose! And you were the one who told him to say it!”

“I was being accurate,” he countered, his gaze dropping to her mouth for a fraction of a second. “Just like I was accurate when I told Ryan you’d probably pack seventeen pairs of shoes for a four-year degree.”

“I packed three!” she snapped, keenly aware of the heat radiating from his body. He was too close. He was always too close. Even standing a foot away, he took up all the oxygen in the room. His scent—cedar and cold air and something sharp and male that she’d spent years forcing herself to hate—crawled under her skin. Her pulse, the traitor, kicked up a notch. She told herself it was rage. It was always rage.

“Settle down, kids,” Ryan sighed, finally looking up. His face was a mask of fond exasperation. “God, if you two flirt any harder, you’re going to get flagged by airport security. Can we just have five minutes of peace before we’re stuck on a plane together for three hours?”

“We’re not flirting,” Ava and Jax said in perfect, disgusted unison.

Ryan just shook his head and went back to his phone.

The line crept forward. Ava dragged her suitcase, pointedly ignoring the man beside her. But she could feel his eyes on her, a heavy, possessive weight that tracked her every move. She’d gotten a new, tiny silver stud in her ear last week. She knew, without a doubt, that he’d already noticed it. He noticed everything. And then he’d use it against her later. That was how their game worked.

“Where are you flying to?”

The voice came from behind her, casual and warm. Ava turned, grateful for the distraction. The guy was cute, with a kind smile and soft, intelligent eyes. He was holding a book, the corner of the page folded down.

“Crestwood,” she said, offering a small, genuine smile. “Starting at Blackwood University.”

His brows shot up in surprise. “No way. Me too.” He stuck out a hand. “I’m Leo.”

“Ava.” She shook his hand. His grip was firm but gentle. Normal. Safe. Everything Jax wasn't. “Business program?”

“Yeah,” he said, his smile widening. “You?”

“Same,” she breathed, a flicker of genuine hope cutting through her anxiety. “Small world.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll see you on campus, then.”

For a moment, it was easy. Talking to Leo felt like breathing after being underwater for too long. A calm, quiet space in the chaos that was her life.

Then Jax shifted.

It wasn't a big movement, but the air changed. That low-level hum of animosity cranked up to a roar. He stepped just slightly forward, a silent, imposing wall, effectively cutting off her line of sight to Leo.

“Isn’t this cute,” Jax drawled, his voice pure acid. He didn’t even look at Leo, his eyes were fixed on Ava. “Making friends already, Monroe? Don’t get your hopes up. He probably has a curated playlist of sad indie songs and thinks pumpkin spice is a personality trait.”

Ava’s jaw tightened. She hated that he knew her type. Hated that he’d been watching her long enough to know what she ran to when she felt broken. Her ex, Mark, had been exactly that kind of boy—all soft smiles and empty promises. The memory of Mark’s cheating—the text message that had shattered her world—flashed through her mind, sharp and ugly.

“Shut up, Jax,” she said, her voice colder than she intended.

Jax’s smirk only widened. He finally deigned to glance back at Leo, a dismissive, predatory look in his eyes. “Blackwood, huh? Hope you like mystery meat and dorms that smell like disappointment.”

Leo, bless him, just offered a tight smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The line moved again. The moment was over. But as Ava turned away, she felt Jax’s gaze on her back, hot and possessive. A brand. A warning.

This wasn’t just a new start. It was the continuation of an old war. And the battlefield had just gotten a hell of a lot smaller.

***